Memento Mori
by Cynthia Zharya
Summary: One by one, they will perish. Not by ordinary means, but by the hands of their greatest talent; their destined titles. Eight days, eight murders. Death to us all.
1. I - The Exposition

**A/N: To avoid further confusion as notified to me by a review, I will hereby clarify that this story is a horror AU, set in a hospital. The characters featured are all Homestuck kids. My style of writing will involve only revealing the true identities of the characters in later chapters, so please bear with that.**

* * *

A room. Cold tiled walls, windows closed, curtains only open in good weather. A door to the back, leading out into a corridor that was confusing by virtue of the fact that it kept echoing the sounds of footsteps back at him. Four beds, evenly spaced, three taken, one empty, with partitions in between that essentially separated it into four different wards. However, he was most familiar with the part of the room that was his - the other occupants weren't exactly too open to his form of perception.

He discarded the image as easily as he did with his dreams - from what the others said, someone new was coming in today. Careful not to dislocate the IV line in his hand, he pushed himself upright. Warmth on his arm told him that the curtains were open - a particularly sunny day - and that the nurse had already visited. Probably replaced the drip - yeah, definitely, the IV pole felt different.

Dressing was difficult with only one hand, but he was used to it - the fact that someone had conveniently left his clothes at the foot of the bed definitely helped immensely. Oh yes, and the stick - he really didn't want to resort to that, but given the higher risk of tripping over something, it was a must.

He lightly brushed his fingers across the bedside table, building up a mental image of what was there; the pills that he was supposed to take today, a bottle of water (thank god it was sealed), a pen, plus a book that he'd never bothered to read -

- ah, his watch.

A Braille watch was rare, but not unheard of, and his own had been with him for quite long. Eight, from the way the hands were oriented - not bad, though he had slept through his scheduled drip change.

Though, something was different. Despite the sunlight, it was colder. The cold was a different feeling, though - it originated from within him, like some sort of parasite that smothered his insides in an icy vicegrip. It was a strangely curious sensation - he made a mental note to tell the nurse later. Probably still some sort of morning cramp - after all, this visit was only to treat a respiratory infection.

Footsteps from beyond the door. Definitely not the nurse - no sound of a trolley - quite light, almost elegant. A knock. A pause.

"Come in." He drew the covers around him in an attempt to ward out the cold.

The door creaked, and there was a click as it was shut behind his visitor. The footsteps stopped.

"You do seem to be only half-dressed." The voice was tinged with amusement, though more hollow than usual. "Shall I wait outside until you finish?"

"'m fine." He mumbled. "Just kinda cold." A pause. "You sound strange."

"Thank you for the observation, Captain Obvious." She deftly sidestepped the comment.

A silence stretched between them, a silence that neither wanted to break. The room itself seemed to have a dampening, depressive effect - from what the others said, the room was perceived as _white, washed white, bone white, stark white, lifeless white _- words that evidently meant a lot to them. But it was meaningless to him. What was _blue_? What was _red_? All the colours were meaningless - terms that he could not comprehend, things that could not _see_.

"D'ya know who's coming in?" No sounds of commotion, no whirring of machines, nothing out of the ordinary that he could tell. Despite what he wanted to feel, he was curious.

"Oh, not yet - " The sentence was interrupted by a coughing fit, but it abated as soon as it started. "She's coming in later - and either way, the doctors are kind of busy now. We have a second vacant bed, so there is in fact not one but two people who are to join us soon."

He gazed in the general direction of her voice." Tell me 'bout it."

A chuckle. "Oh, curious today, are you not? You should be thankful that I had the foresight to be more aware today." A strange sound that could be vaguely interpreted as a sip of water. "John was moved to the emergency ward today. He is no longer here."

What was he to feel? Surprise? Anxiety? Worry? Concern? In his frequent stays, his fellow wardmates came and went. Some recovered. Others did not. But then again, this time, it was someone close to his age. Just a few months younger, if he'd recalled correctly. And they did have interesting conversations.

He tilted his head, indicating his wish to hear further details.

"Severe allergic reaction triggering another asthma attack, according to what the doctors described to me. Though the situation presents itself as curious, if not slightly... morbid." She sighed. "John is allergic to peanuts. The only thing known to trigger such a severe respiratory response is powdered peanut."

A cold chill settled over him, and the parasite tightened its grip as he fully comprehended what she was implying.

"But who - who would want that?"

"I don't know."


	2. II - The Descent

The IV pole clattered along the floor as Rose led him down the corridor. A turn left, a turn right, then once more to the left. She had to tug on his sleeves several times when he slowed down too much - he'd snap back at her, as the tactile clues were very important. As much as he trusted her, he had never forgotten the value of being independent.

A few metres down the third corridor the floor changed; the polished tiles gave way to stone slabs incised smoothly together. The sound of voices also grew louder - a male doctor, from the sound of it, arguing with another woman (a relative?). Rose stopped some distance away from them, and he did so as well.

"My most sincere apologies, ma'am, but your grandson is undergoing emergency treatment, and as I've said, my colleagues are occupied and for your own safety we cannot let you in -"

"But my grandson is in there! I need to see him _right now_! Oh dear gods, he could be _dying _in there..." The woman seemed anguished, almost hysterical, but her voice was oddly distorted, as if heard from a distance. "I need to see him today... I might not live to see him tomorrow - "

There was a confusing clatter of metal on stone as the old woman gasped for air. Rose stepped backwards and bumped into him - good thing he was able to fumble and hold onto the IV pole for support, otherwise he would have toppled. He cursed briefly, though nobody took notice.

"Ma'am! You need some rest." The doctor's tone was firm, unyielding, though there was a note of exasperation in his voice. Another clash of metal on metal - was the old lady on crutches? - as the doctor soothed the lady's protests. Footsteps sounded, one shuffling, the other patiently guiding, and their voices began to drift ever so slowly down the hall.

"Who the hell were they." He could divine their identities from the conversation that transpired, but he decided to ask for confirmation. "Where're we, for that matter."

"As per your request, I have guided you outside the ward in which John is currently staying in. Though, from what the conversation between the doctor and John's grandmother, he is currently still undergoing treatment for acute airway constriction." There was a pause, and the soft clink of a tap on glass. "I myself find the situation rather confusing. It has been several hours since the attack. Surely, the affliction should not be so harsh?"

Her voice trailed away at the last sentence, and so did her conviction.

At that moment the door opened smoothly, its sounds suggesting a sliding door. Someone stepped out of the ward, and sighed deeply. "Your query is appropriate, young lady." A woman, this time, though her voice was muffled - probably wearing some sort of mask. Another sigh. "Oh, don't start asking me questions. I'm just an assistant, so I don't know too much about what happened to your young friend inside. Just coming out for some fresh air - oh, don't worry, I've been through the disinfectant and all - "

" - what exactly is going on inside?" Rose said abruptly, her sentence accompanied by two more taps on glass. Strange sounds were now coming out of the ward, a great deal of shuffling, rapid speaking, a few metallic clanks here and there, some beeping, voices again coming closer -

- the door burst open and a cacophony of voices erupted out, some young, some old, a few relieved ones, sighs, grumblings -

- and with it, a gruesome smell. It was strangely sweet, like tea with too much milk added, but in a sickening way that made bile rise in his stomach. Accompanying it was a strange stench like that of burning plastic, though not quite, as not only was it acrid, there was also a distinctly non-chemical component as well. And as if the combined smell wasn't revolting enough, there was also a component of danger - the all-too-familiar metallic tang of blood. He could almost taste it in the air.

The smell invaded his awareness, blotting out all other sensations like a noxious cloud. The speech and sounds of the others became a distant blur, all his attention forcibly focused onto the foul intrusion. And it wasn't just a smell. It was powerful enough to make him hallucinate, hearing a slimy slithering that sent shivers down his spine.

There was also a distinct feeling of someone holding his right arm - he swatted the hand away instinctively. It returned after a moment, however, along with someone repeatedly speaking his name -  
" - that's it, look at me! Don't space out like that!" Rose's voice was sharp enough to momentarily break the hallucination and bring him back to reality. "You really need some rest. My bad for bringing you out - "

More voices, shouts, movement of some equipment, and the vague awareness of being helped onto some sort of surface - a wheelchair, from the resultant feeling of movement. Reality itself was slipping away, presumably dissolving into what others would call _fog_.

And then, silence. Absolute silence. No more voices. No more sounds. No more sensations. Nothing.

For the first time in his life, he was completely unaware.

And being unaware was much more unnerving to someone who already had to rely on a secondary sense to perceive the world.

For him, there had always been darkness. Now, there was also silence, pressing down oppressively like a heavy blanket, blanketing out all emotions but the growing bud of fear lodged in his chest.


	3. III - The Confrontation

A room. Whitewashed walls, windows closed, curtains only open in good weather. A door to the back, leading out into a white-tiled corridor- too polished, and shoes clack-clack-CLACKED against them even if wheeled devices didn't rattle when they passed. Four beds, three taken, one empty, with partitions in between that essentially separated it into four different wards. Her own ward was neat, belongings arranged neatly into a bag placed at the foot of her bedside table, without a speck of dust.

She fancied herself as doing quite well in the cleanliness department- John (or Dave, whom she knows from experience) would have messed up the ward by this time, casting their belongings every which way. Clothes draped over the side of the bed, dirty ones cast on the floor if the nurses hadn't come around to clean their room yet; Dave would be mumbling to himself all day, maybe blasting some obscure band's rap music for ironic purposes. John would probably have his ridiculous bunny on parade somewhere. Speaking of John -

- she glanced across the room, her eyes falling onto bland hospital curtains. They were drawn, and along with the partitions shielded a bed from the rest of the world - John, who had been moved back from the Intensive Care Unit just a few hours ago.

He had stabilized, they assured. He'd still receive the best care possible back here, which she hoped was the case. They were running out of space in the ICU, apparently - too many critical cases of late, too little surgeons for any sort of looseness in the schedule. They'd probably start taking longer shifts if this persisted, she thought, and with that start slipping up. What would the chances be? Hmm. Another topic to muse on later, to pass the time.

If things did start going wrong, with fatigue and stress and leading to mistakes, to wrong fluids in IV drips and wrong cuts in an operation - she just hoped they were all out by then, to avoid whatever pandemic this was. John especially, who of all people didn't deserve to be in this sickly place with the cancer and viruses (and wheezing Daves.) And Dave, who was so very vulerable with his strange medical condition she never bothered to learn the name of. And...

...Roxy, in some other ward. She only received news this morning, that the younger Lalonde had been admitted due to some problems with alcohol. Roxy always had a drinking streak, but never as bad as to end up sick - she could hold her liquor exceptionally well. So what could have been the matter? (She knew that one, but didn't want to answer it because one thing led to another and all roads lead to Rose's fault.)

How much would Roxy have drunk? The thought was unsettling -

The main door to the ward creaked slightly as someone rapped smartly on it. She glanced at it - the silhouette was tall, lanky - definitely male, but with a rather... interesting hairstyle.

Of course she knew who it was. She had seen that silhouette many times. And it had brought many different emotions as well. At first, indifference at her new deskmate in school. Then, a decent amount of rivalry as she discovered just how proficient he was at literature and debate - two of her best subjects. Disdain followed at the amount of admirers he had somehow managed to accumulate. Hope, when he was shown to be one of the very few who would produce an improvement in her sister's behaviour.

And now, disappointment mixed with anger.

He entered, nodding slightly at her - still able to look her in the eye, it seems.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone was surprisingly mellow, with no sign of the seething bitterness that boiled within her. "Visiting your brother, I presume? He is asleep right now. That would defeat the purpose of your visit, wouldn't it?"

A pause.

"Unless, of course, you were visiting someone else?"

"Uh, yeah," he admitted. The stress on her last word seemed to catch him by surprise. "Well, not exactly."

"And what would you mean by that?" He wasn't going to get away from her that easily.

"My original intent was to visit someone else, but they were similarly... unavailable."

"Oh?" She caught the pause in his words. Sloppy today, Strider. "Who would that be?"

He mumbled something about 'seeing if he would be waking up'.

"Would that particular 'he' be Dave? I'm sorry, Dirk, I think you've misunderstood my queries. I inquired as to whether you were visiting someone else. That is to say, someone other than Dave."

"You mean you don't remember?" Ah, it seems as if he was trying to get back at her. "Oh right, you don't. You weren't in his class. Of course you wouldn't."

"Enlighten me, who's 'he'?"Rose rolled her eyes and tried not to sound bored. The conversation was utterly deplorable, and she was losing interest in it quite fast.

"Jake." A pause. "He's been in a coma for close to six months now."

"Tragic." Jake. Rung a distant bell. He was popular, wasn't he? A competitor for the girls with the blonde standing before here? She would care more, really she would, but not right now. Her stomach was still aching from the recent operations, she was somewhat light-headed and weak, and her thoughts were in a jumble over Roxy and the scare with John - right now, Roxy was first priority and Roxy translated quite easily to hate irrationally on Dirk Strider.

"It must have been hard for you, being - if I assume correctly - his classmate." Her voice was clearly lacking in sincerity. "Although it kind of strikes me as a surprise that you're capable of caring."

Dirk rolled his eyes, but did not say anything. Her cue to strike, then. Can't say he didn't give her a chance.

"You've probably got - what, a dozen admirers at any one time? If one of them gets pulled out of the picture you can always move on, hmm? I can't imagine you'll have any lack of company. Perhaps a lack of decency, I don't know, but with all the pretty girls practically throwing their ready bodies at you it must be quite a challenge to keep up any form of commitment." She's going a bit off-topic here, maybe drawing things back to Roxy too blatantly. Not satisfactory.

"So, a fellow heartthrob, if I remember correctly? Is there some sort of Brotherhood Of The Heartbreakers going around? How guilt-tripped were you exactly to hover by his bedside with what was probably extreme awkwardness?"

"Look, I was merely fulfilling my part of a concerned classmate, alright? Don't get strange ideas." He was more than just annoyed now. "Not everyone wants to attract so much attention. The girls are annoying. And the boys don't like us either. We'd only have each other for decent company."

"Fulfilling your part. Wonderful, Dirk Strider is a very responsible member of the class on top of being intelligent, handsome and athletic. I can see why the girls like you." She held nothing back on the last line. Full blown Lalonde sarcasm was reserved for the rare people like Strider would could withstand it...and probably deserved it.

"The girls are annoying? So that's what you actually think of them." Her eyes went cold.

"No!" He finally seemed to catch up on what she was hinting at. "Only those - those that constantly pestered us for attention. Your sister was never like that -"

Something inside went snap.

"For your information, my sister is currently in the hospital being treated for a case of attempted suicide!"

Silence. She glared at him, becoming aware that she was starting to shake - Rose took an unsteady breath, then another, forcing herself to calm down. There was no use being agitated when she herself hardly knew about the situation - he didn't deserve to be privy to any of her emotions, at any rate. Another Lalonde had bared her heart to him, and look what happened!

"I wonder how that must have come about."

He averted his eyes, silence his only reply.

"Look at me. Look at me and tell me what you did to her."


	4. IV - The Nightmare

"Rose? Could you go with me to the bathroom?"

Rose looked up from the psychology text she was perusing. What, too timid to go to the bathroom yourself? But then again, this was Jade and thus this was likely the case. It was kind of amusing rather than irritating. Jade could hardly be irritating. The girl had been moved to their ward earlier on, perhaps not so much of a surprise since Rose knew her from school. However, she had been one of many struck by a recent wave of disease and disaster - Jade was one of the more unfortunate ones.

"Okay."

Jade pulled her shawl slightly so that it covered her now-defunct left sleeve. "I'm sorry if it's a bother, but..." She looked down. "I'm scared."

"It's alright. I understand." This was Jade, after all. Rose found herself with an uncanny inability to be her usual sarcastic and / or scathing self whenever she was around this girl. She rose from her seat, placing the psychology text down before walking over to join Jade. "Let's go, then. It's late, you should be getting to bed."

"There're strange sounds from outside." Jade pointed out. "And the lights - the lights are strange." Despite her comments, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the corridor.

Rose didn't really notice the various 'strange happenings' Jade was nervous about, having been busy with her readings. The poor girl was really spooked by all this. "The electrical systems are probably just a little faulty tonight. I'm sure the hospital disposes of its dead before they turn into zombies and ghosts."

Jade nodded, but slipped her hand around Rose's arm as they ventured out into the corridor.

The hospital's corridors looked normal enough. All was quiet, except for the occasional snore or cough from a sleeping patient. Rose gently guided Jade towards the direction of the bathroom. The windows provided intervals of moonlight, which was calming, but the fact that all the lights beyond the washroom door were out didn't help calm Jade at all.

With trembling hands she pushed open the door. The bathroom was dark.

"Rose..."

"Yes?"

"What if there're monsters inside?"

Rose stepped into the washroom. The lights around this place were motion-triggered, and it would do a lot of good to have some light around here to put poor Jade at ease. "Jade, it's nowhere near Halloween. Why would there be monsters inside?"

"Oh." Jade followed her hesitantly, then chose a stall to go into. She opened the door.

And screamed.

She backpedaled furiously, skidding somewhat on the tiled marble floor, throwing up her one remaining arm to shield herself from... whatever was in the stall.

Rose started, moving forward to steady Jade. A burst of adrenaline shot through her veins and she craned her neck forward, recognizing her need to stay by Jade but yet warily curious as to what was in the stall. "What's wrong?"

She pointed at the inside of the stall.

There was a dead body inside, sprawled over the closed toilet bowl. It was definitely dead, but from the relatively untouched state of its clothing, he or she hadn't been dead long. What was most strange, however, was the colour of the person's skin. It wasn't the faded yellow would usually expect, but an ashen pallor interspersed with veins of black. As they watched, its fingers began to twitch, and its head rolled sideways to expose a half-decomposed face. The thing drew a rattling breath, and spoke in a voice reminiscent of leaves crackling underfoot.

"hhhelp...me..."

A vile stench issued forth from the thing's mouth, distinctly acrid and chemical that left a taste of metal on their tongues. However, the stench also had a sickly sweet undertone - while not enough to cause nausea, it was still disgusting.

…

Her thoughts copy the body and flatline, fading to a blank white that creeps into her field of vision with a crackle and a burst of static (all that's left of her thoughts.) She's vaguely aware that she's shaking like a leaf in a storm, that there is fabric and skin under her hand and Jade is crying out -

"W-w-e've- We've-" Rose blinks once, twice, dumbly at what should be a corpse- decomposition had set in (fast, too unnaturally fast), rigor mortis and everything that even her shallow knowledge confirmed should be the signs of a dead person. There is something she should do. Trying to gather her thoughts, to register what's going on, she moves backward without really remembering how her limbs are supposed to move - "We've got to go. G-get a doctor."

(Get out of here.)

Jade didn't wait, sprinting out of the bathroom without a backward glance. Rose followed, putting on a burst of speed as a horrible slimy slithering sounded behind them. Hurtling down one corridor after the other, they did not stop until the ward's heavy door was safely between them and... that thing, whatever it was.

John was sitting on one of the ward's common chairs, an inhaler on his lap. He was still pretty pale, but looked much better than before. At least he wasn't sprawled on some kind of surgery table, hooked onto tubes that were for goodness knows what. "Uh, Rose, what were you and Jade running for?"

The question made Rose blanch. Heart still hammering, she schooled her features - "N-nothing. Jade, stay here. I'll get the staff to s-sort the matter out."

John did not need to know. Jade did not need to worry. But still it took a Herculean effort to turn herself around to face the door, to walk back out with calm and measured steps. With every inch she traveled towards the doorway Rose became more aware of the trembling in her knees and calves.

The corridor was darker now, several lights flickering on and off in the distance. A chill wind blew through, despite the lack of an open window, and several curtains fluttered like dying moths around a fire. The doctors rarely had a permanent office, and she had no idea where those working the skeleton crew would be.

Rose glanced around. Not only was the corridor darker; it was empty.

Not even a nurse checking in the wards? Strange. She moved along the corridor, taking great care (unneeded care, she assured herself, there was nothing to fear that the doctors wouldn't sort out) to keep her footsteps soft against the tiled floor. A peek into the ward next to her own, and then the next - all was quiet, not a staff member to be seen.

It was mildly unsettling. The thought occurred to her that they had an emergency button to call for the doctors back in their ward if the circumstance arose - that, and the decision that this counted as appropriate circumstance, was what led her to turn back. Definitely not fear or anything like that. There was nothing to fear. Certainly it was just some unfortunate accident- or even better, just the both of them hallucinating.

Their own ward was the only one with a light. The door slid open smoothly, and Rose quickly darted into the ward as soon as the opening was big enough. However, it seemed as if the day (night?) had another, if more benign, surprise for her.

"Dirk?" This was a surprise. Rose turned from her search for a staff call button to face the shades and blonde spikes at the door, ignoring the confusion from both John and Jade over this whole series of events. Not that she herself didn't have any questions about the animated corpse in the bathroom, but she kept it under wraps better.

Even so, to dismiss the hostility that they had parted with the last time round was no easy feat. Her voice still lacked any measure of warmth when she spoke.

"What brings you here?"

"Not my idea." Dave raised his hand in a gesture of surrender.

"Hmm? Then who's was it? Visitation hours are over, Strider. If you haven't realized."

Dirk said nothing for a while, as if he was busy composing a reply that would not further provoke her. "I know about the... the thing in the bathroom. "

"The -"

"What?" John asked from his bed, confused. Jade made an all-too-audible squeak of terror.

"It's nothing." Rose answered immediately, fixing her eyes on Dirk. "Let's talk outside."

Dirk nodded, rising from his seat to join her outside in the corridor. He held a flashlight - a rather sensible thing, considering the fact that the lights were failing more than before.

"So." He said carefully. "The thing in the bathroom."

"So you know about it." Her brain stalled again at the very mention of it. "That's dandy. What's the point of this conversation again?" What, indeed, was the use of knowing about it if they weren't in a position to resolve the issue?

"As I was saying, the thing in the bathroom." Dirk repeated. "It has everything to do with us. I used to have an internship here, so I know quite a bit about its workings." A pause. "They said that there was a shortage of intensive care units due to a pandemic, yes? They didn't mention what the pandemic was."

"Everything to do with us?" That wasn't good.

"So, what is the pandemic?" Even without an answer she was beginning to piece things together - the strange condition of the thing in the bathroom definitely warranted intensive care. "And exactly why does everything concern us patients - well, a visitor in your case, but nonetheless. You're not an actual staff member, Dirk. I don't see any either of us with an obligation in pursuing the matter."

"Because everyone, or at least my brother and John, are going to be staying here for more than just a few days, and will be hard to move out. And the pandemic spreads quickly. Too quickly. Didn't you notice how quiet everything is?"

He didn't wait for her response. "That's right, all the infected are turning into the ones you saw in the bathroom. The virus, or whatever the contagion, spreads. Probably not through air, otherwise we'd all be dead. I would say physical contact."

Wonderful. She inhaled lightly, closing her eyes for a moment as she sensed a mounting headache. "So you want us to get out of here?"

"I don't think that's possible anymore. We have several people on drips and whatnot, two unconscious, one blind, and others similarly incapacitated. I would say I am the only... able-bodied person here right now." A pause. "It seems that the infection has spread to the maternity wards as well, at least from what I observed in my later rounds."

"Now what, then? We call the police? Quarantine the hospital, bomb us all to death to get rid of the plague? Watch as the zombie apocalypse happens?"

"I don't know." Dirk admitted. "Even the doctors are not immune, though. And I strongly do not recommend us going outside. The hospital exits are barricaded by the infected. Believe me, I've tried, and vaulting over a horde of zombies trying to infect you isn't exactly the easiest thing."

A pause. "Fine, I confess, I've overstayed the visitation hours. Now you know why I'm still here."

"..."

Zombie apocalypse indeed.

"You can't be serious. This - this sort of thing doesn't happen outside of movies." She's finally aware of leaning against the wall, the shaking in her legs spreading to the rest of her. Exits barricaded, doctors gone - she wouldn't have believed it if she didn't see the thing rotting in the bathroom. And yet, some small part of her was still crying out against this revelation, refusing to believe that it wasn't an elaborate prank or some sort of mistake. "We're not - we're nowhere near the action heroes who find guns and start scoring headshot after headshot. This can't be happening. This can't -"

Breathe, Rose. Breathe. Prank or not, they'll find out sooner or later.

"So, what now?"

"I don't know." Dirk admitted again. So much for him being the wise guy. "I suppose we wait. If there's anyone out there, anyone at all, we can only hope that they will come for us. That, or we can prepare, to see if the infection is weak towards anything, so we can finally put the patients to rest. And try not to die. That's the most important thing."


End file.
